The Dying of the Light
by GloryOfBromacia
Summary: Witness the Eternal Nightmare's initiation into the Institute of War, and his adventures within.


_**Dusk: Prologue**_

_THE RISING DARKNESS_

"**ALRIGHT**, let's start again," the summoner said in exasperation as he interrogated the lunatic before him. The man had supposedly undertaken a massacre several days ago, cutting down all in his path "for the glory of the darkness". When caught and confronted, he revealed his murderous doings to be the instruction of "the thing in his dream".

"I told you," the man persisted stubbornly, staring down intently at the chains that bound him to the chair. "He came to me...in my dream. he revealed my purpose to be something...something great, something that would be remembered when the Shadows would overtake the world."

The summoner sighed, looking at the subject before him and comparing him to his notes. Kelvin Ma, patient #4236 of the Institute Asylum. A man barely past 30. Married with two children. His family dead after his rampage. Worked the Institute, Gold Division IV. What a great pity. Personality paranoid and nervous...just what was he missing?

"So for something that wasn't even real, something that belonged in a nightmare, you would go over the brink to kill?" the summoner continued.

"He **IS** real!"

Kelvin reared up with renewed energy, struggling. Had it not been for the two guards beside him, he would have broken free of his chains. Even now, the metal was straining under the increasing pressure he was exerting on it. Suddenly, he forsook his struggle, and fell back into the seat, laughing. "Ah, he was real. Real indeed. Darkness. Blood all over, staining everything. Me, even. And then...ah."

The criminal's eyeballs flared, an unknown flame flickering within. "I saw him. He was eternal. He gave me new strength. Gave me new purpose. And he told me to kill. To obey him, or die." Kelvin suddenly shivered, beads of perspiration descending from him. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with fear. "I didn't want to die. I didn't want to kill either. I had no choice. The darkness would kill me...unless I embraced it. The darkness is closing in... it's pitch black now... but I can still see him..."

"Summoner Douglas," the murderer stated, as if possessed. "You would also do it...wouldn't you? You too would embrace the darkness. Because, you see..." Kelvin cackled in seeming understanding of the summoner before him. He leaned in closer, not trying to break free but wishing to whisper to the summoner. "You're afraid of the dark...aren't you, Douglas?" he said in an unnatural crackling sound.

Douglas retreated hastily, sending his chair tumbling backward in the process. "Summoner!" the bodyguards yelled in concern as they pointed a finger at the man bound, their faces a painting of worry and anxiety. "What..."

Kelvin' face was foaming, drool cascading down his mouth in great torrents as he twitched uncontrollably. Inaudible noises were coming out of his mouth as his eyes widened, the white replaced by a dark, opaque, black.

"Doctors! Call the doctors!" the summoner commanded, not tearing his gaze of the terrible sight before him. The man was still in a spasm. Tears were already flowing out of his darkened eyes.

By the time the doctors approached, it was already too late. The bodyguards sent out to escort the doctor and the medical professor themselves were both greeted by a bloodcurdling sight. Two men, both lying on the floor draped in summoner robes. With eyes completely, absolutely dark as ebony.

[]

**WHAT** makes you think you can resist the calling of the night? What makes you think you cannot succumb to death in your dreams? What makes you think that all dreams and nightmares are all figments of your imagination?

For all who choose to believe in such foolish ideas, you are wrong. When the dark approaches, when you sleep, your mind is an area that is completely permeable. Any can penetrate your foolish excuse of a brain and slaughter you from within.

The murderer recited once again as the summoner questioned him once more. "That's what he told me," he said.

Scratching his head in utter exasperation, the summoner looked at the criminal before him. This case was not the first. Already there were numerous cases of summoners, both veterans and amateurs, being visited by a being in their nightmares spreading propaganda regarding the rise of shadows and the end of the world. The lucky ones died in their sleep. The unlucky ones-ah, they went on warpaths after they woke up, finding innocent victims to kill "in the name of the shadow".

"So according to what you have told us..." the summoner tried to follow the crazed logic of the man before him. "You were...supposedly...'visited' by a mystical being in the middle of the night. And he told you that the shadows would rise and take over, blah blah blah, and asked you to help him."

The man nodded in absolute seriousness, looking with 100% conviction at the summoner.

"So you just killed people? Just like that? What did he promise you?"

"Nuthin'," stated the criminal in his heavy Bilgewater accent. "He told ma' that ma' deeds wud' be remembered fa'ever. Twas' enuf'."

**SUMMONER** Adam sighed. He had had a long day. Subject #4807, Jordan Macduff was not the only criminal he had interrogated. All of them were equally stubborn, equally persistent in their belief and equally diverse about their opinions describing the shadow creature. Some recognised it as a dreadful dragon of massive proportions, some knew it as a four-armed abomination, others even called it a cloud of shadow with sinister, piercing eyes of crimson.

Adam was not inexperienced in term of interrogation. Throughout his career throughout the institution, other than battling in the Fields of Justice, his forte would be interrogation. He had spent years under the tutelage of several professors to study the art of Neuromancy, to study and assess a subject's mind. He was so famously efficient in identifying lies and truths that others had nicknamed him "Sherlock".

However, that was nothing he could prod out of this man. He was beyond fanatical, and whatever he said, he strictly believed in. But Adam knew that it was impossible. Dreams are dreams. Dreams couldn't kill you when what happened within wasn't even real. Yet he believed it in so completely that Adam was tempted to believe him.

The madman wasn't lying, he could easily tell. His tellings were backed by hardcore, 100% absolute conviction. It was as if he _wanted _to tell others about his experience. But he was a lunatic, after all. Words of the criminally insane could not be taken that easily.

But there was no choice. Even if he was strapped and tortured, it would still be the same results he would get.

This...'shadow' matter was extremely problematic. Aside from the vast number of deaths per day that were rising by the second, city states such as Demacia and Noxus had already attempted to sabotage each other, deeming each other the mastermind in this crude operation. Necromancers from Noxus were condemned, whereas Neuromancers from Demacia were questioned and interrogated so many times the interrogators themselves found it a bore.

Apart from the absolute futility of the vast amount of pacification the Institute undertook, the question of interrogation proved equally futile as well. The city states refused to believe each other despite their best efforts, and the interrogated subjects only proved one thing: they _were_ truly insane.

It had been a long day, Adam thought as he continued surveying the criminal, bored. He was already sure it was impossible to extract any other detail from the man other than such. Why, even those criminals sent to the Noxian torture chambers spoke exactly the same thing. It almost seemed there was a fate worse than death should they disclose more than necessary.

"Guards," Adam motioned to several jailers, "take him back to his cell."

Jordan only looked at the floor, wide-eyed, as if it heralded secrets unknown to the common eye. "He will come, summoner," he stated matter-of-factly. Adam looked up, curious at the sudden noise and suspicious why he no longer repeated what he always did.

The criminal smiled, his lips twisting into an almost sinister shape as he continued in a harsh, grinding voice. "I will come. Your twilight approaches. You will...ahahaha...suffer...eternally...ARGHH!"

Jordan's face deformed into a mass of melting flesh as his skin melted, bubbling vigorously. Steam rose from his figure as he screamed in agony within the smokescreen. "Save me! Help! Save me! He's coming! Save..."

By the time the doctors arrived, all they saw was a puddle of melted flesh on the floor, bloodied and mutilated beyond recognition.

[]

**NOW **then, justly or unjustly, it was the "monster" who stood accused of these cases of spontaneous combustion, murder and arson; and since, thanks to it, sleep within the Institute had become more and more dangerous, the High Council as well as the public spoke out, and demanded straight out that, at all costs, Runeterra to be purged of this fearsome creature.

[]

**"SUMMONER **Alexander," the voice of the High Councillor rang out within the enclosed space. "Are you guilty of the above charges : the murder of 16 victims, all children in the Schooling District of Demacia, the vandalising of the Demacian Coat-of-Arms located on Justicar Avenue, and the arson of ten dwellings located also within Justicar Avenue?"

Alexander shrugged, slumping his shoulders and curling his eyebrows. "Yep, twas' me. Got'a problem with that?"

High Councillor Heywan Relivash rose in his seat, his eyes burning in anger. "You spread terror across Runeterra itself. You caused great damage in the name of the Institute of War. You killed innocent people, things that did not even incur your wrath. Why?"

Alexander rolled his eyeballs, thinking of his response. "Eh, it was fun," he said, smiling. He had decided to go with the easy approach. The Institute was barred from killing, anyway. The worse he could get was life imprisonment.

"Very well," the Councillor's eyes glittered as he viewed the fallen Summoner before him. "Do you plead guilty?"

"Yeah, I do," Alexander said, arms tucked in his pockets and refusing to show any expression of fear.

"Good." Heywan sat down once more, clutching the sides of his throne. "You will be the first subject. To lure him out."

"T' lure...whut out?"

The High Councillor's smile only widened as he surveyed Alexander's stunned expression.

"Why, the nightmare of course."

[]

**"RIGHT **behind you, Alex," gloated the guard as he prodded his spear into Alexander's back. "Keep walking," he demanded at the cuffed man.

"**** you," Alexander snarled, spitting at the guard. His aim fell short and the saliva spilled onto the ground. He received a slap in return for his insolence, followed by several kicks and punches inflicted by his captor.

Smiling, the guard pulled Alexander up once more by the collar.

"Your language is a little ripe, son," he stated cheerfully. 'But don't worry. Nothing I can't handle. I'd ask you to...cooperate, but I'm really hoping you'd put up a fight. Its more fun that way, ain't it George?" the guard nodded at a thickset, burly man that glanced threateningly at Alexander.

Alexander sighed, looking at his captors. He briefly wondered if he could escape, but he decided not to. Even if he did manage to evade those stupid fools sent to guard him, it would be almost impossible for him to break out of the Institute. "Where'r we goin'?" he asked.

The guard didn't bother to look back at him and only spoke. "The West Wing. Where," he grinned maliciously, "the room is."

His gut tightened at the mention of that. 'The room' was supposedly the "nightmare" 's favourite haunt. It was rumoured that all those unfortunate enough to visit 'the room' and sleep in it never woke up. he had no doubt now what purpose he was supposed to serve as. He gulped, throat bobbing up and down in nervousness. Bait.

The trio entered the room, to be greeted by the jolly face of Heywan Relivash.

"Why, hello, Mr Alexander," he stated cheerfully. "So what's up? I hope you have been obedient. He was, did he not?" the High Councillor said in a voice laced with honey. The guard puffed up his chest in pride. "Aye. The lad was just like a dog. Didn't even bark once," he said, laughing alongside George.

The High Councillor nodded slowly, triumphantly. "Good. It was very nice of you, Mr Alexander, not to disclose any details of our experiment. I would seriously hate what would happen to you if you had. As for our two friends here..."

Heywan motioned briefly, and the duo that had accompanied Alexander were silenced. The knife hanging limply from their guts spoke as such.

Heywan shrugged. "Sorry, gentlemen. But sometimes...accidents happen. Silence must be ensured."

Smiling, he turned back to Alexander, his face a painting of victory. 'Now, lets begin, shall we, Mr Alexander?"


End file.
